


Run 'n' Go

by HorologiumParadox



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: All forms of love are valid or something, Cussing, Insomnia, Izaya loves it, Love/Hate, M/M, Midnight calls, Shizu-chan has a foul mouth, Swearing, Teasing, This is their form of love, underlying feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-27
Updated: 2017-02-27
Packaged: 2018-09-27 07:37:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9983156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HorologiumParadox/pseuds/HorologiumParadox
Summary: "Don't wanna call you in the nighttime, don't wanna give you all my piecesDon't wanna hand you all my troubles, don't wanna give you all my demonsYou'll have to watch me struggle from several rooms awayBut tonight I'll need you to stay"Shizuo is only half annoyed by Izaya's call at ungodly hours in the morning.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!
> 
> First of all, thank you guys for reading this! Feedback means a lot to me and keeps me going at all times. Second, the lyrics in the summary do not belong to me; they're from "The Run and Go", by Twenty One Pilots (my favorite band). I recommend you all listen to the song at least once to understand the link between this story and the title.
> 
> Hope you enjoy this little interaction between these two brickheads! See ya!
> 
> -Horologium

“Izaya, it’s fucking three in the morning.”

After the fourth or fifth ignored call, Shizuo decided his pride wasn’t worth his sleep and smacked his cellphone on his ear. Regarding the caller, no one dared to call him before eight o’clock except for the ever-present pest of his life.

“Is that a way to greet someone over the phone, Shizu-chan?” Izaya had his mock-hurt voice on, the one Shizuo had learned to ignore with a passing grunt over the time they had been more…intimate. Either that, or he shut him up himself.

“That’s what you get for calling me in the middle of the damn night.” He rubs his knucles across his eyes, not yet managing the mental strength to open them. “What the hell do you want?”

There’s a silent pause. If Shizuo didn’t know better, he’d read it as hesitation.

Finally, Izaya’s reply comes with the usual lilt of teasing, “Just wanted to check if you didn’t drown in your own drool during sleep.” Shizuo actually groans at that, since the bastard calls him for the first time ever at that time and still wants to beat around the bush like he does in plain daylight or while fidgeting when the blonde hits the bullseye. “Honestly, Shizu-chan, you have to acknowledge you have an issue there.”

“Oh, so you’re worried about me?”

“No such absurd thing, I assure you,” the raven snaps back almost immediately, making Shizuo wonder what’s the actual dose of sarcasm in that sentence. “I just want to guarantee my exclusive rights to kill you.”

“Whatever. I’m going back to sleep,” he threatens, but curiosity already has the best of him.

“Okay, okay, I was kidding!” Izaya laughs, even though it resounds with the familiar undertone of despair.

The bodyguard sighs, awareness rising along with his impatience. “Then fucking spill it, flea.”

Shizuo can almost hear the seconds tick by as Izaya takes a deep breath, and for a moment he imagines the information broker sprawled on his swivel chair in front of his panoramic window, chewing on the inside of his cheek and looking at nowhere in particular while gauging the amount of truth he’ll put in his next words.

If it depends on the raven, Shizuo will never know, so he takes a guess. “Can’t sleep?”

Almost untraceable, there’s a sharp intake of air, like Izaya was startled into silence just as he was about to speak. It works as well as confirmation for the blonde.

He runs a hand through his face, sighing in exasperation. “So you decided to pester me with your company.”

“Don’t you mean ‘grace me’?” Izaya rebutts nearly fast enough to turn the conversation back to their usual banter.

Shizuo snorts. “I don’t think anyone likes a flea’s company.”

“You’re still here, though, Shizu-chan.”

He doesn’t have anything to say to that, so he just grumbles some self-aimed insult and finally opens his eyes to stare at the ceiling.

After setting his frown at the mental picture of the vermin’s face, Shizuo focuses on the sounds on the other side of the cellphone as he clicks his tongue, “Well, what do you want me to do? Go to Shinjuku right now and sing you to sleep?”

“Please tell me you haven’t tried doing that to a child.”

“Go fuck youself.”

“Good idea.”

The blonde chuckles, willing his mind away from imagining the brunette actually following through with the action. “Are you lonely, I-za-ya-kun?”

Izaya’s laughter buzzes through the speaker. “Alone, yes; lonely, never.”

“Sure,” Shizuo mumbles noncommitaly. “So, why are you still up and annoying? Did you find a monster under your bed or something?”

“Only when he has to hide from my secretary,” the raven chants.

At that remark, Shizuo actually laughs; a low, gruff sound still muffled by drowsiness. “Asshole.”

“Is that all you care about in me, Shizu-chan? I’m hurt,” Izaya whines back.

“Of course not, idiot.”

It comes out so automatically that Shizuo doesn’t doubt it for a second. Perhaps that’s why he’s so startled by the realization – he never thinks too much about these kinds of things, so when a thought like that pops up on his mind, Shizuo just shrugs into acceptance with a ‘ _oh, so it’s like that_ ’. Still, to blurt it out directly to the subject of his confused feelings…he’d never hear the end of it.

Except he doesn’t even hear the start. Or the other’s breathing.

“Izaya?” he tries, scrunching his brow in fear he’d scared off the information broker.

“And just when I thought you couldn’t be more cunning, Shizu-chan, you catch me off guard.” Izaya starts in a stern tone, meaning he’s already planned out his teasing. “I never knew you could attempt flirting!” He exclaims, pretending to be utterly baffled. “You’re such a ladykiller, I think my heart was stolen."

“You’re a man, bastard.” Shizuo has his hand over his face and can feel it heating up despite his best efforts.

“Then a fleakiller.”

The former bartender chuckles, no longer fighting the grin that refuses to leave his face. “That sounds like a pesticide brand…”

From the other side of the line, Izaya giggles. The sound makes warmth soak Shizuo’s chest. “Also sounds like your dream job.”

Feeling feisty, Shizuo decides to play the game.

“Nah, that would be flea charmer. So I could make you do anything I want.”

Izaya barks a laugh, equal parts amused and baffled. “When did you become so dominant, Shizu-chan? Next thing you know I’ll be on a leash.”

“Sounds good.” The blonde grins at that image, too caught up in his fantasies to swallow back the next comment, “That way everyone would know you’re mine.”

Again, silence stretches out over the next seconds as the realization of what he’s just said sinks in, weighs and hits rock bottom as the awkwardness reaches its peak.

Izaya also isn’t saying anything, to deny or confirm or lighten the air once again so they could continue their game of back-and-forth. That alone speaks for itself, but the blonde is too busy fighting back his avalanche of self-consciousness to take note of that.

Shizuo is the one to break the silence at last, clearing his throat to make sure it hasn’t closed in on itself yet. Everything above his shoulder burns a lively crimson, and he has to take a breath not to outright stutter.

“Come over next time you have nightmares, flea.”

That seems to click Izaya back to his normal annoying self, since he scoffs and takes on that sharp tone he uses to tip Shizuo over the edge of his patience.

“Your mattress sucks.”

Relieved, the bodyguard growls. “Your bed is too big.”

“It has to be, you take over it.”

“Ugh, just go die.”

“You first.”

“You’re such an asshole.”

“You’re a devolved ameba.”

“I hate you.”

“I hate you too, Shizu-chan.”

It was amazing how they were both in their twenties, but seemed to go back to elementary school when bickering. 

Shizuo sighed, “I’m going back to sleep. If you call me again, I’ll kill you.”

“I wouldn’t bother trying to conversate with a caveman again,” Izaya promptly replies.

“Right. Fuck you.”

“Thank you.”

“Slut.”

“Yours.”

The call cuts off before Shizuo can register the word. When he associates it to its meaning in the language, he’s already lost hope of sleeping until morning.


End file.
